


tainted blood

by havisham



Category: Dracula (TV 2020)
Genre: Bisexuality, Consent Issues, Gaslighting, Hypnotism, M/M, POV Alternating, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:20:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22125499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: Jonathan is, perhaps, Dracula's finest bride.
Relationships: Count Dracula/Jonathan Harker
Comments: 26
Kudos: 334





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I watched 2/3 of the new Dracula miniseries and I'm in hysterics. You can find my breakdowns [here](https://twitter.com/winthrope/status/1213623792548925441) and [here](https://twitter.com/winthrope/status/1213653315151704065).

Jonathan Harker was a foolish, craven man who gave up everything near the end. He had no pride, no will and no hope of ever reaching salvation. Nonetheless, Dracula was fond of him and considered him to be perhaps his finest bride. 

From the vague muddle of his thoughts, Dracula picked out what he needed to know -- an accent that felt good in his mouth, it rolled in his tongue, rich and thick and so, so _satisfied_ \-- and recollections of a Jonathan’s unremarkable childhood, his adolescence marked by grief at losing his father, boring, boring, _dull._ Onwards to Jonathan’s university days, reading law. Poor, thick Jonathan, who was so easily outshone by the cleverer boys and had enough wit to know it but not enough to change it. 

Then: a golden mist descended upon him. He met Mina Murray and Dracula was in reflected ecstasies -- of ungloved hands brushing against each other accidentally, of startled recognition that they shared the same favorite Dickens novel, of walking slowly under laburnum trees, never speaking of their ardent love -- until it was too late. Of course, they had never fucked. Jonathan would die a virgin -- of sorts. 

Dracula could have saved him from that final humiliation, at least. He was quite charming to both sexes, and willing to be charmed by all. He knew. Once he had regained his youthful vigor -- thanks to nightly draughts of Jonathan’s blood -- oh, his blood, his blood, it tasted of England, of promise, of empire. He could use it so --the whole world at his feet, for his own _feeding_. 

Should he reach England. Should he? Of course he would and Jonathan would help him. He promised that with his lips even as his blue (such a pretty blue!) eyes widened with horror, his mouth open to protest only to receive Dracula’s blood-smeared kisses. 

He pushed Dracula away for a moment and said, his voice weak and faltering. “I am _not._ ” 

“You are not,” Dracula agreed, his eyes burning red. “But I am, dear Johnny. I am.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you notice that Dracula totally stole poor Jonathan's cloak?

“You’ve stolen my cloak,” Jonathan said in a rare moment of lucidity. 

He lifted his hand to point at Dracula accusingly, but he did not have the strength to ball his fist. So he waved his hand uselessly in front of him, curled somewhat. Dracula smiled and fell upon him. He unfurled Jonathan’s hand and pressed it flat on his chest. Tenderly, he regarded him before dipping down his head to bite down on Jonathan’s neck, sucking out the blood.

Jonathan felt his mind go. Blown out like a candle. He floated free on a cloud of agony and pleasure before he was pulled back again to Earth with Dracula’s ironic chuckle. 

“It suits me better than it does you, Johnny.” 

It was true. When he had been a hideous old dotard, Dracula had not been suitable for such a gorgeous thing as Jonathan’s cloak. But now _he_ was gorgeous and Jonathan, hideous. They did not match. They did not fit. Jonathan hated it. He wanted his cloak back. 

But instead what he got was this: Dracula sucking at him, swallowing him up with all the appearances of fiendish delight. There was no way to stop him and though Jonathan twisted and gasped, it was all for naught. And the wrenching pleasure Jonathan got out of his degradation -- why, it was the worst part. It _had_ to be the worst part, surely? 

“It didn’t used to --” It was so hard to think. He had to try. _He had to_. When he had come to the castle, he had been wearing that cloak. That was true, wasn’t it? It was his, wasn’t it? “When you were an ugly old man.” 

“Oh,” Dracula said, sounding hurt. “What an unkind, ungentlemanly thing to say. And over a cloak that isn’t yours, too. For shame.” 

“It is mine,” Jonathan said, feeling a sudden moment of clarity. “Mina gave it to me. She stitched my name on the collar.” 

Dracula put his face closer to Jonathan’s. He was grinning. “Who’s Mina, then?” 

Jonathan frowned. Who was Mina? He couldn’t remember her face or the sound of her voice. Her touch. All of it was lost. But he knew her. She was important. She was Mina. 

Dracula caressed his face. Jonathan shuddered. Dracula’s nails were sharp enough that they scratched at his cheek. He did it deliberately. 

But still, Dracula said in a conciliatory voice, ‘When you depart for England, I will give you this cloak.”

Impossible to believe him. He’d be a fool to -- “Thank you, sir. I’m sorry to impose.” 

“No trouble. You are my guest, after all. Rest now, Jonathan.” 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Podfic: 'Tainted Blood' by havisham](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27118352) by [peasina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peasina/pseuds/peasina)




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